The Telegraph reports that:
'A friend of Kate Middleton was interviewed under caution for claiming on Facebook that she planned to shoot illegal immigrants.'
But it was the background on Kate Middleton's friend, Emma Sayle, that caught my eye:
'Miss Sayle, from Wandsworth, south-west London, is no stranger to notoriety - she runs an "upmarket" swingers' club through her company, Killing Kittens, and describes herself as "one of the world's leading sextrepreneurs". The firm also sells sexual aids and organises a 'kidnap role play experience' for £3,500.
On The Sisterhood website she lists her hobbies as "breaking squash rackets on walls, playing dirty in triathlons and "practicing [sic] her front crawl naked in the Serpentine after a night out". '
Killing Kittens describes itself as 'The network for the world's sexual elite.' Is/was Kate Middleton a member? How about any members of the Royal Family?
Meanwhile I note that many of the broadsheets have run articles on Killing Kittens in the past. So
here's The Times' Charlotte Hunt-Grubbe
'I’d been approached by friends giggling into drinks, or confiding in me over supper, four times. All these girls are public-school products: intelligent, beautiful, high-flying. Girls I thought would dismiss out of hand the concept of going to a club to, as far as I could grasp, dress up, titillate and have sex with numerous men and women. Nonetheless, a month later I’m in a silky pink dress and a sparkling eye mask, surrounded by women in a towering Mayfair mansion ticking my name off the guest list on a table strewn with condoms and — bizarrely — Quality Street chocolates.'
Here's The Independent's Charlotte Philby:
'By the time I return to the main upstairs salon – in which a huge pile of adjoining mattresses, overlooked by a floor-to-ceiling mirror, is placed tellingly in the middle of the room – the walls are lined with couples and huddles of women, all looking on eagerly as some 20 bodies (male and female) get to it. There are threesomes, foursomes and indecipherable groupings in the throes of various intimate acts, some having full-blown sex, either oblivious to or spurred on by their audience. Sometimes it's hard to tell where one group stops and the next begins. More and more of those on the sidelines begin to slide into the pile, without any obvious invitation, and no one seems willing to turn down anyone who wants to get involved. (It's hard to tell how widely condoms are being used, but I did notice a basket of them by the front door.)
As I make my escape, I catch a conversation by the ground-floor stairway: a naked woman, recently returned from the bedroom, addresses an apprehensive-looking friend: "Why don't you just come upstairs?" she asks her reassuringly. "If you feel like getting involved, that's great, but if you don't, that's cool too." The pair join hands and move towards the stairs. '
That name 'Killing Kittens' comes from the jokey phrase 'Fact: Every Time You Masturbate, God Kills a Kitten. How Many More Have to Die?'.
